You know, I won an award for this.

I don't know if I've ever shared this but I won an award in graduate school. Best Writing in my graduate program, son. Ya' heard.
OK, OK, I'm 100% certain there are errors in just about every entry I've written. But it's true, I was awarded Best Writing way back when. I knew I was a decent to good writer but not confident enough to ever enter a competition. It was only because of one of the professors reviewing my graduate project recommended I submit an excerpt from my project. So I did. And I won.
I write less and less as the years go by. I used to write for one of my past jobs - grants, print materials, proposals. But now I hardly write. All I really have is this blog.
I think most people blog because they like to write. It's an opportunity to freely share one's thoughts and express oneself to the whole wide world through the world wide web.
I've missed writing. I worry that, just like most skills, it's something I've lost over time because I haven't practiced. Do you know I knew APA style like the back of my hand? OK, not that well but pret-ty well. Now I don't remember if I put the period before or after the parenthesis.
Know what else I miss? Having a hobby. I love yoga and am able to take a class once a week but it's hard to fit it in my schedule more than that. But this year, I'm going to express my interest and see if my studio needs my help. I'm not interested in teaching but I'd like to submerge myself more in the practice. Perhaps through writing? Maybe fund raising. Either way, I'm going to figure it out.
I'm also promising myself to write more so maybe, one day, I can win another award :)

Spreading the word of Lulu

If you know me at all, you know how much I love, love, love this word.
It took six months ...
behold!

VAGANUS

Now, who are the jackasses who gave it a thumbs down?!

They obviously can't handle the truth.

Please give it a thumbs up. And silently give the middle finger to all those perverts that gave vaganus a typical meathead "Beavis and Butthead" definition.

Why you shouldn't date a chickenhead

Sassy, please click here for clarification.

The story about Butter

Picture it, San Francisco, Mary Ward Hall, 1999 ....

I was living in the dorms my first year at SFSU. My roommate, Meghan, was also a junior and we lived on a floor that was not only co-ed but mixed with freshmen, sophomores and juniors.

Our room looked a like this, except with a much narrower space between the beds. No, our dorm was not this spacious but the set up was the same:


Our furniture wasn't quite as classy as this, though.

So, imagine that there was half as much walking space between the two beds and definitely no room for a night stand. That was my dorm room. Our beds also folded in so they served as couches during the day. If you've ever lived in the dorms, you probably know that people prop their doors open during the day so people know that you're in and available to socialize.

I was sitting on my bed (left) and my roommate was sitting at her desk (right.) Our dormmate, Kelly, walked in. Kelly, a little socially inept, just plopped right down on Meghan's bed without asking and was probably telling me about her terrible day at work or class. I don't remember. All I know is that Meghan got up from her desk and had to squeeze between the beds and us in order to get to her closet. As she walked by, Kelly said to us, "Do you smell that?"

Meghan, at her closet, sniffed the room. "No."

I sniffed the air. "You mean the buttered popcorn? I think someone's popping popcorn."

Kelly looked at Meghan and said, "Are you on your period?"

Meghan, not sure if this was a joke, asked "No, why?"

Kelly, dead serious, "When you walked by, I smelled period."

I thought Meghan was pretty nice not to smack Kelly. I mean, Kelly was sitting on her bed as she insulted her. Seven years later, I still vividly remember this incident.

I recently told my coworkers about this and, sometimes, we ask each other if we have buttered popcorn.

And that is the story of "butter."

Thursday is my Friday

Tomorrow is the last Friday I get the day off. *sigh*

Today is my friend's birthday. Maria is my partner in crime at work. She is the person who provokes me to whisper obscenities when no one can hear us. She also challenges me to creatively find different ways to say vagina. I gave her a birthday card this morning, telling her that she is a wonderful friend, talented, smart, and all that good stuff. Then I ended with:

PS: Bearded clams rule. But stinky, buttery* ones do not.

Today, I also visited Tel. I was in the city for a meeting and it when it was over, I was smackdab in the middle of rush hour. So I dropped by and she made me hot chocolate (thanks!) We chatted for a bit and then she went to the gym while I finished my hour commute. Before I left, Tel also gave me some fine literature to take home:

Friendship is a beautiful thing.

*Next entry, I will share the "buttery" reference.

"Her pants are so tight, I can see her clit."

That, my friends, is the kind of stuff that is said at work.

No, no, no, not in front of customers or my boss (well, unless she's in a good mood.) These conversations are said behind closed doors, way in the back of the building where our offices are hidden.

There are three or four of us that try to out-gross each other. Of course, still respecting each other's bounderies. For instance, I get queasy talking about feces or getting too detailed about the bunghole. But for whatever reason, I am A-OK talking about vaginas and penises. Odd, isn't it?

Here's an example of a conversation from last week. Keep in mind, this is while we work. Usually when we're doing our menial tasks like printing and copying. (Working at a non profit means you make speeches at public forums, develop PR materials, ask wealthy companies and individuals for money, and by golly, you're still not too good to cut paper and stuff envelopes. But, over all, I like my job and don't mind this part. Much.)

Me: "Hey, did I ever tell you guys that I never heard of the word, "twat" until my boyfriend told me?"

Suzy: "Whaa?? You just learned the word, "twat?!""

Me: "Well, three years ago! But yes, the word is fairly new to me."

Maria to Suzy: "Hey! Have you heard "bearded clam?" We just learned that one last night." This is from the same guy who taught us deep throat protein blast.

Me: "Stinky bearded clam!" That's right folks, I'm 27 years old and a college graduate.

Suzy, giggling: "That's my husband's favorite term! I'm going to tell him you guys just learned it."

A few minutes later, talking about another topic ...

Suzy: "Maria, are you going to Europe this year?" Sigh. "I've never been to Europe. I'm so jealous."

Maria: "Awww, you can still go! Why don't you go this year?"

Suzy: "Yah, right. Two kids, a husband ..." Turns to me. "Trust me when I tell you - don't get married. Travel. Then travel some more. Just wait before you get hitched!"

Maria, laughing: "Oh, that's right! You haven't heard Sue go off about getting married too early. I told her she should hold a workshop here at work to all the women in their 20s."

Me: "Hey, you know what you can call it? "Lock The Twat!" I'll even make you flyers."

Snort, snort, giggle, giggle.

We are exempt staff, living on a shoestring budget, and working our as$es off 40-60 hours a week. Sources of amusement are scarce. We are forced to make our own.

Funny moment #4

I once made the mistake of playing an "inappropriate" (I mean, it really is subjective) game with coworkers. See, you go through the alphabet trying to find a word matching the letter you get that is, well, colorful. It can be a couple of words or a phrase, too. As long as it starts with your letter. You should try it sometime. "Q" and "Z" are pretty tricky. Just make sure that the people you ask to participate in the game aren't frigid or prissy.

Tonight, I'm in the car with some friends and we decide to play this game. Two of the guys talk about crazy $hit all the time so we knew they would be fun. The third guy, David, is more reserved and a bit shy but he goes along with it. Maria and I invented this game so you know that we're OK. I start.

"A$shole." Not so bad, right?

Maria says, "Bunghole." Even milder.

"C*nt" says Tom. OK, well, I told you it's colorful.

David thinks about it. His face brightens and he blurts out,
"Deep throat protein blast!"

*Now, I'm no innocent small town girl but have you EVER heard of that???? And if you don't know what he meant, I'm sorry. I cannot help you.

Funny moment of the day

I showed my coworker my new purse. She looked at it approvingly and said she like the style. I said, "Yah, I like this style, too. It's my satchel." Another female coworker walked by and without pausing said, "Your snatch hole?" and kept walking.

That's what I get for saying naughty things at work. They eventually get said back to me.

Maybe you had to be there but it was funny to me.